


The Short Version

by the-captains-ayebrows (EscapistFiction317704)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bromance, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6527170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EscapistFiction317704/pseuds/the-captains-ayebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I will be posting any drabbles or short pieces written from Tumblr prompts. Ratings may vary (I like to use swear words sometimes), but this collection should be smut-free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rum Thief

**Prompt from[gusenitsaa](http://tmblr.co/mk5iIdFP66glQg7X0JtU_hg):**   _hmmm prompts… If I had them at my fingertips I’d probably write them! Oh I know Captain Crossbow! best brOTP ever. How about Granny sneaks into Killian’s ship to try to find his secret stash of rum. :P granny’s needs more rum, apparently_

**A/n: Here!  Have ~800 words of Granny-centric Captain Crossbow silliness. (Set sometime after Poor Unfortunate Souls, but before Operation Mongoose)**

* * *

  **The Rum Thief**  

Granny has it on good authority from Joe, the sous-chef over at Tony’s, that Captain Rum-Snob and Emma are still over at the little Italian bistro ( _the traitors_ ) on their date, so she doesn’t bother with stealth.  Probably for the best, since stealth is not her strong suit these days.  As she descends the steps leading down into Killian’s cabin on the Jolly Roger, her knees are creaking as loudly as the ancient wood beams of the ship.  Still, she keeps her wolf senses on high alert to give herself as much warning as possible in case she needs to beat a hasty retreat.

She pauses at the bottom of the steps with a huff.  She’s really too old for silly subterfuge like this, but it will all be worth it to see the look on Hook’s face. That smug sonuvabitch has insulted her rum one too many times, insisting that his prize stash which had come back to him with the ship itself was _far superior_.  So, she’d hatched a plan to sneak aboard the Jolly, steal some of his own rum and pass it off as hers, then laugh in his face when he can’t tell the difference.

Now that she is actually here, though, she’s beginning to think this was a huge mistake. Lord only knows what Hook and that Swan girl have been up to in this cabin, but the lingering pheromone cloud ( _wolfish sense of smell can really be a curse sometimes_ ) has her suddenly wondering what Marco is doing this evening, and if maybe she should give him a call and invite him back to the Inn for a little late night rum taste test.  She shakes her head to clear it ( _Yep. Definitely too old for this shit_ ), but still files the notion away in the back of her mind.  Right now she needs to focus.  Find the rum.  Get the hell out of here.

She finally finds the rum barrel and fills the small glass bottle she’s brought with her.  As she’s about to place the stopper in the bottle, she hesitates, curiosity getting the better of her. _Couldn’t hurt to have just one little sip.  Let’s see what all his fuss is about._ She takes a swig straight from the bottle, then licks her lips, savoring the burn of the liquor down her gullet.   _Hmm.  Not bad.  Actually, the flavor’s pretty good.  Maybe Captain Tightpants knew what he was talking about after all._

She takes another, bigger gulp, and sighs, sitting down on top of Hook’s bunk.   _Stuff’s quite a bit stronger than what I serve, too.  I better be careful or I’m not gonna be able to make it back up those steps to get outta here. Wait - what the hell am I thinking?  I’m no lightweight.  Just one more slug.  It’ll be fine._  

One more pull from the bottle, then another, and Granny begins to feel like maybe she’s been too harsh on the pirate.   _Killian’s a nice kid, you know?  Good taste in liquor, too. Got a sassy mouth on him, though. Maybe he needs a good spanking to remind him not to sass his elders._ A laugh burbles up inside her at the thought, and she takes another drink, draining the bottle. _Awww, but that poor baby’s had it rough.  Maybe he just needs a hug._

Granny sighs contentedly. She pulls her feet up onto the bed, leaning back against Hook’s pillow, and lets the gentle rocking of the ship lull her. _This bunk here is actually kinda comfy.  Maybe I should just shut my eyes for a sec. They won’t be back for a while. Service at that Tony’s is slow as molasses. It’ll be fine…._

-x-

“Whoa!” Emma exclaims, freezing in place on the steps. “You wanna tell me what an elderly werewolf is doing in your bed?”

Killian nearly knocks Emma over as he hastens down from the deck of the Jolly. The sight that greets him makes him burst into laughter, but he quickly attempts to stifle his mirth so as not to waken the sleeping Granny. He tugs on Emma’s arm with his hook.  “I think we’d best go back to your place tonight, Swan.  I’m sure the saying about letting sleeping dogs lie applies to werewolves by tenfold.”

Emma raises her eyebrows and blinks in disbelief.  Years in Storybrooke and there are still times when she can’t believe that this is her actual life.  “Fair enough,” she concedes. “But seriously-” she turns toward Killian and begins to ascend the steps.  “What the hell do you think happened here?”

Killian casts one last look over his shoulder at Granny’s sleeping form, taking in her dreaming grin and the empty bottle clutched tightly to her ample chest like a teddy bear. “Darling, in this instance, I believe we will have to simply blame the rum.”


	2. Set My Heart Racing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from captainswannl29: I want to seeeee…casual gym encounters that lead to an unspoken but fiercely competitive rivalry.
> 
> Oh, Krystal, this is what happens when I write a prompt after drinking too much.
> 
> A little bit of Captain Swan AU at a gym that borders on (if not crossing completely into) crack!fic. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.

_Killian sits down in the uncomfortable looking chair opposite the sleek minimalist desk with a huff. “Is this really necessary?”_

_“Unfortunately, it is, Mr. Jones,” the other man replies. According to the Storybrooke Fitness name tag pinned to his crisp polo shirt, this poncy pretty boy is apparently ‘Sam’ and an assistant manager. “Since there was an injury involving our gym’s equipment, we have to make a report to submit to the insurance company.”_

_Killian sighs and scrubs a hand down his face in annoyance. “Very well then, let’s get on with it.”_

_Sam nods and shuffles some papers on the desk until he finds the proper form.  He picks up a pen, and looks up at Killian.  “Okay, Mr. Jones. For insurance purposes, please tell us what happened in your own words.”_

_Killian leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, to begin with, she started it.”_

* * *

**MEANWHILE…**

_Emma hobbles to the indicated chair in an identical office two doors down from where Killian is presently being interviewed.  “I promise I have no intention of suing you guys.  Can’t I just sign a release or something and go home?”_

_Her pleading eyes and plaintive tone go unheeded by the muscle-bound gym manager - ‘Dean’ according to his name tag. “I’m afraid not, Miss Swan.  You were on one of our treadmills when you hurt your ankle, so I’ll need to fill out this accident report for our insurance provider.”_

_He smiles at her in what she supposes he thinks is a charming manner, but she’s had her fill of attempted charm today, and just wants to get the hell out of here.  “Fine,” she huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”_

_Dean nods, his pen poised over the officious paperwork.  “Alright, Miss Swan, just tell us what happened in your own words.”_

_“Well, to begin with, he started it. Wait.”  Emma pauses, leaning forward in her chair suddenly and pointing an angry finger at no one in particular.  “Did that jackass tell you I started it?”_

* * *

**Killian:** I’m not the sort of man who thinks of the gym as a meat market for picking up women, right? I consider myself a gentleman. But, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice her when she first came in. Between us blokes, you’ve seen her.  She’s as lovely as a -

* * *

**Emma:** Peacock.  He’s a ridiculous preening peacock. You know the type. Strutting around.  Ever so proud of himself.  Knows he’s good-looking and always tries to-

* * *

**Killian:**  Show off a bit. I’ll admit it. I was trying to impress her. I was quite pleased when she took up the treadmill right next to me. I’ll confess, I adjusted the elevation and speed a little bit. But that didn’t mean she needed to-

* * *

**Emma:** One up me.  The bastard was trying to show me up.  Every damn time I adjusted MY speed and elevation, he upped HIS, too.  It’s not my fault that some men feel threatened by-

* * *

**Killian:** A tough lass.  Oh, she surely is one, and I told her as much.  Seemed to annoy her though. I kept trying to engage her in friendly conversation, but she was stonily silent. Just kept raising her speed on the treadmill. You know, most men would’ve taken her silence as off-putting but I love-

* * *

**Emma:** A challenge.  It was a personal fucking challenge and he knows it. I’m not a woman to back down from a challenge. I can hold my own, thank you very much.  I don’t need some metrosexual (because really? Who wears guyliner to the gym?) floppy haired, pretty boy thinking that -

* * *

**Killian:** She bested me, alright?  Do you have to put that in your report?  She was still going strong, and I was bloody out of breath, but for the sake of what was left of my pride, I had to try to keep up. But then, I noticed she was breathing a little too hard, and blinking a little too much.  I saw her ankle give way, so I reached out to her and -

* * *

**Emma:** Distracted me.  I don’t know what the hell he thought he was doing reaching out like that, but the movement distracted me and I missed a step.  Going at that speed on the treadmill, that was all it took. All of a sudden I was-

* * *

**Killian:** Hurtling through the air.  I tried to catch hold of her, but my own treadmill was going so fast that it flung me off, too. I crashed to the ground and she landed squarely on top of me.  Her shapely arse hit my groin so hard I thought for a moment she’d broken my -

* * *

**Emma:** Fall.  I guess I’ll give him that.  He did break my fall. But I wouldn’t have been falling in the first place if he hadn’t been such a -

* * *

**Killian:** Prickly one, she is.  Didn’t even say ‘Thank you” for trying to save her, or “I’m sorry” for crushing my-

* * *

**Emma:** Nuts.  He’s completely nuts.  Who the hell tries to grab someone falling off the treadmill when they’re still running full tilt on one themselves?  I don’t know.  Maybe he was trying to be chivalrous or something.  After I fell on top of him, he was fairly kind about trying to help me get-

* * *

**Killian:**   Off her high horse and take some responsibility.  Honestly, it’s that competitive streak of hers that’s at fault.  That’s what made everything escalate as it did. Blimey, I just wanted the lass’s-

* * *

**Emma:** Phone number?  Sure. That’s my cell,  That’s the best way to reach me if you need any more information for your report.  Wait.  Is his number in the report, too?  I mean, I want to make sure you guys are investigating the hell out of that jerk.  Could I… maybe get a copy of that?  For my records, you know. The last thing I need is to get sued by that-

* * *

**Killian:** Bloody git.  That’s what I am.  I should’ve just talked to her rather than trying to put on some show.  Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.  My number?  Sure, you can put that in your report.  Wait.  Is hers in there, as well?  I mean, I want to make sure you lot are really investigating this.  As I said from the beginning, she started it.  Could I maybe keep a copy of that for my own personal records?


	3. When I See You Bro Out With Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from kat2609: Well after the CCbow effort I was hardly going to stay away! Let’s see….how about my other brOTP, Captain Charming meeting awkwardly when out with their new mates Robin/Arthur? Congrats on your milestone too!
> 
> As requested, here’s a little bit of silliness with Captain Charming set vaguely sometime post-Camelot. Thanks to unspoken-and-wild for beta-ing!
> 
> Further inspired by a gifset that can be found here: http://onceland.tumblr.com/post/124922394642/x

Their eyes meet across the nearly empty diner, and both immediately look away.  David clears his throat and shuffles his feet awkwardly.  He turns toward the counter in a manner he hopes seems casual, but he is betrayed by the anxious drumming of his own fingers. He wishes Granny would hurry up with his coffee to-go.

Killian scratches behind his ear, and sighs.  This was bound to happen sooner or later.  The burgeoning friendship between himself and the Prince had seemingly come to a screeching halt ever since this King Arthur character entered the picture.

It began subtly at first, with David occasionally dropping Arthur’s name into conversation over a pint.  Soon it was, “Camelot this” and “Round Table that” in nearly every bloody sentence from his mate’s mouth.  Most hurtful was David’s apparent fascination with Arthur’s sword, Excalibur.  No mere pirate blade of Killian’s could compare to a masterpiece like it.  

_It’s all a bunch of bollocks_ , Killian huffed to himself. _It’s not the blade that matters but how one wields it, and as Swan can attest, I am nothing if not a master swordsman._  Killian knew in his heart, the problem was not his sword, nor his skill.  No, King Arthur shared one particular thing in common with David. Arthur was what Killian would never be - _royal._  How can a pirate compete with a King?

It had all come to a head the day that Killian had caught them in the act… _sparring_. David had been avoiding him ever since.  

Killian shakes his head sadly.   _This is foolishness.  We are grown men, and it is very bad form indeed for the pair of us to behave this way.  I will simply approach the Prince, and extend him my best wishes in his new… What was the word Swan used?  Bromance._  He stands and walks across the diner toward David.

David sees the pirate approach out of the corner of his eye. He knows he should turn around and face him, but the wound is still raw.  He doesn’t blame Killian for harboring resentment toward him.   _I did kill him after all.  Sort of._   Still, it hurt that Killian had become increasingly distant since the Storybrooke gang’s return from Camelot. That was nothing, though, compared to the - well, if he’s honest with himself - jealousy that he felt seeing his mate sneaking off into the woods with Robin Hood over and over again.

So, maybe he’d talked up Arthur just a little bit.  Maybe he’d thought that if Killian knew he had other bros in his life, the pirate might stop taking him for granted.  David is no fool.  He knows he’s just some stuffy, clean-cut royal.  Nothing dangerous or exciting like an outlaw or a pirate. Maybe that’s what hurt the most - the idea that his best mate had become bored with him.

Killian is nearly to him now.  David presses his mouth into a grim line.   _This is ridiculous.  I should just talk to him and wish him and Robin the best. Robin’s a stand-up guy, you know, for a thief._

David turns as Killian arrives next to him and plasters on a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  “Hey.”

Killian inclines his head politely.  “Your highness.  It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I guess it has.”  David shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and rocks back on his heels.  “So, you and Robin have plans this morning?”

Killian is momentarily taken aback.  He leans in and lowers his voice. “You know about that?”

David rolls his eyes in a move that reminds Killian once again how much his Emma is her father’s daughter. “Of course I know,” David hisses.  “For a pirate, you’re not nearly as stealthy as you think.  I’ve seen you every morning for the past week while I was out doing patrols.”

“You haven’t told your lady wife about it then, have you?” Killian asks.

“What the hell does Snow have to do with it?”  David exclaims, his expression perplexed.

Killian sways his head from side to side sheepishly, his thumb rubbing against his heavy silver rings.  “Ah.  You see, the Princess has never _quite_ seemed to take to me, as I would hope of the mother of my true love. Certainly not to the extent that you-” Killian stops himself and clears his throat before continuing.  “I thought that perhaps if she and I had some activity in common over which we could bond, it might facilitate matters.  Graciously, Robin Hood has offered to assist me in learning archery.”

David’s eyebrows rise nearly to his hairline.  “Is that what that was about?”

“Aye.”  Killian nods. “Robin’s a good bloke.  Actually, since you seem to be in the market for new mates, I should tell you I think the two of you would get on quite well.  Like you, he was a nobleman once, Lord of Locksley or some such.  Long before his infamous thieving days, of course.”

David narrows his eyes.  “What makes you think I’m in the market for new mates?  And even if I was, why would it matter whether someone’s a nobleman or not?”

Killian lowers his chin and smirks up at David from beneath thick black eyebrows.  “Please, _your highness_ , you needn’t mince words. I’ve seen you and King Arthur sparring together.”

“You-” David clears his throat, suddenly feeling the need to study his own boots. “You saw that, did you?”

“Indeed,” Killian replies, fixing the Prince with a hard stare.  “You hardly made an effort to hide it.  The two of you were right out in the middle of the park in front of God and everyone.”

David has the decency to look abashed as Killian goes on, “And really, it only makes sense that you’d wish to spend your time with someone in your own caste.”

At that David’s head pops up, anger suddenly coursing through him. “Now that’s bullshit and you know it!  I was a _shepherd_ for pete’s sake.  I don’t give a rip about a person’s _caste_. And I was only hanging out with Arthur because you were sneaking around with Robin!”

“I was not sneaking!”  Killian snarls, then pauses to reconsider. “Alright, technically I was sneaking, but I was attempting to conceal my activities from your wife, not from you.”  Killian lowers his voice, a shadow of sadness passing over his features.  “Besides, you and Arthur were sparring, Dave.  Sparring!  That was always our…” he circles his hand trying to grasp the right word. “Thing.”

“Well, I didn’t know about your secret plan,” David replies defensively, but his words have lost their heat. He ducks his head and takes a hesitant step toward Killian.  “And for what it’s worth, sparring with Arthur, it - it wasn’t the same.”

Killian rolls his eyes.  “I believe the phrase that Henry taught me for just such an occasion as this is, _‘Whatevs,_ ’ Dave.”

“No, really.  I - I was thinking about you the whole time.  Arthur’s a good fighter, but he has no style.  He could never pull off a move like the one you do, you know - where you spin around and slash?”

A small smile creeps onto Killian’s face. “Aye, that is a good one, isn’t it? Taught it to Swan. And I rather like that move you do where you rotate your wrist so the blade swings in an arc and then you jab?”

David laughs heartily.  “Yeah, that one gets ‘em every time. So…” He hesitates, smiling charmingly at the pirate.  “Are we still _mates_?”  He extends his hand to Killian in an offer of truce.

Killian accepts the handshake, returning David’s grin. “Mates,” he answers with a nod.

Rather than releasing him, David uses their joined hands to pull Killian into manly embrace complete with back-slapping from each. When they break apart, Killian leans over the counter and calls into the kitchen, “Widow Lucas, if you please!  A dram of your best rum for my mate here!”

Granny shuffles leisurely over to the two men, picking up a glass bottle full of dark amber liquid on her way.  She eyes the pirate suspiciously.  “Jones, you are aware that it’s 7:30?  In the morning?”

Killian impulsively pecks a quick kiss on Granny’s cheek, and she shoos him away with a good swat on the arm.  “Then perhaps, good madam, you could put just a drop into each of our coffees?” he pleads with a wink.

“Oh, go on with you,” Granny grumbles, but nonetheless tips a little bit of rum into Killian and David’s cups.

Both men press the plastic lids onto the cardboard coffee cups and raise them in a toast, then walk to the diner’s door together chatting animatedly.  David pulls the door open and holds it for Killian to walk through.

“You’re a gentleman as always, Dave.  Let’s promise each other from now on that if we have a quarrel, we shall discuss it like adults, rather than attempting to stab the other in the back?”

David narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “You just couldn’t let that one go, could you?”

“Never.”

* * *

From their booth in the back corner of Granny’s, Emma and Mary Margaret watch their men leave.

Emma takes a long sip of her hot cocoa, then leans toward her mother and props her elbow on the table, palm facing upward.  “Pay up.  You bet they’d be back together in a less than a week.  It’s been eight days.”

Mary Margaret scoffs.  “It’s close enough.” She shrugs flippantly.

Emma raises an eyebrow.  “Really?”

“Really.” Mary Margaret persists.  “Besides, you better pay up, too.  I bet you Killian couldn’t make it out of here without bringing up the whole unfortunate stabbing incident.”

Emma rolls her eyes at her mother’s description of her father _killing her boyfriend right in front of her_ , but lets it go for now. “Technically, they were out the door by the time he said it…”

Mary Margaret chuckles and returns her daughter’s eye roll in kind.  “How about we just split another order of pancakes and call it even?”

Emma nods her assent.  They clink their mugs together to seal the deal, and gaze out the window at the retreating forms of their true loves.

They turn back to each other shaking their heads fondly. With a long-suffering sigh, they simultaneously exclaim, “ _Boys_ ,” and burst into a fit of giggles.


	4. From the Mouth of Babes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just had a lot of Jones Family Feels, okay? (This was written before we all knew there was a Liam 2.0 already, but I'm not changing the baby name)
> 
> Just a quick Future Fic that I’m tagging as CS, but it’s really mostly Daddy!Killian, with a lot of Jones Bros feels, and a little sprinkle of Captain Crossbow. Unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. I don’t even like baby fic, why did I write this???
> 
> Graphic for this story by Duathadun can be found here: http://the-captains-ayebrows.tumblr.com/post/131647657981/update-the-lovely-duathadun-made-this-banner-to

Killian watched in fascination as his two-week-old son smiled and chortled and waved his tiny, pudgy fists seemingly at something over Killian’s left shoulder. It was the infant prince’s first official public appearance, and a crowd of well-wishers had gathered at Granny’s for the happy event. There was no shortage of people or activity to draw the child’s attention, yet it seemed to the pirate that baby Liam was playing with thin air.

“I wonder why he does that,” he mused, an adoring smile tilting up the corners of his lips.

He hadn’t quite realized he’d spoken the words aloud when the Widow Lucas shuffled over. She tenderly stroked the little princeling’s downy dusting of fair hair, then turned her keen old eyes to Killian.  “You know, there’s an old belief that babies and very young children are so pure of heart that they can see things the rest of us can’t. When a baby smiles and plays with something no one else can see, we used to say he was ‘playing with the angels’.” Granny tilted her head and shrugged. “But then, that’s just an old wive’s tale.” She gave Killian a warm half-smile and patted him firmly on the shoulder.

“And I suppose that it’s fitting for an old bird like you to tell it,” Regina’s voice cut in. Granny narrowed her eyes at Regina, then stalked away with an indignant _humph_.

Killian reached into the pram and gently scooped up the babe with his good hand, placing the little lad’s head in the crook of his left arm before turning his attention to Regina. “And what would you suggest, Your Majesty? I’d no idea you were an expert on infants.”  He kept his voice soft and friendly for little Liam’s benefit, but hoped his raised eyebrow and tight smile conveyed the appropriate level of sarcasm.

“Believe it or not, pirate,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, “I actually did some reading on parenting and child development when Henry was a baby. At that age-” she indicated Liam with a flick of her fingers “-an infant can barely see more than a dozen inches in front of them, much less into some spirit realm, and any smiles are merely a reflex.  It’s probably just gas.”

Killian looked fondly down at the babe in his arms, tapping a heavy-ringed finger against the tip of Liam’s pert little nose ( _Just like his mum’s_ ). “Hmm, don’t you worry about grumpy Auntie Regina, me lad. I know a _real_ , and might I add, _devilishly handsome_ smile when I see one.” Liam gurgled lightly and gripped Killian’s calloused finger, eliciting a proud grin from the pirate and even softening Regina’s sneer.

He finally tore his eyes away from his son at the sound of his Swan’s voice.  “I think this devilishly handsome little guy is about due for a feeding.” Emma placed a hand on Killian’s shoulder and leaned down to tickle Liam’s toes. “Regina, can Henry stay at your place tonight?  I think he’s about had it with his baby brother waking up the house every three hours.” She caressed Liam’s cheek gently with one delicate fingertip, adding “ _Yes he has!_ ” in a singsong voice she reserved solely for the babe.

Regina replied in the affirmative, and Killian nestled Liam back into his pram before setting about helping Emma gather up all the diaper bags, toys and other accoutrements that a wee one needs to travel. As his little family said their goodbyes and thanks to their assembled loved ones, he looked down to see Liam once again grinning and burbling at the empty space just to Killian’s right.  He pondered Granny’s words and smiled to himself.   _Well, at the very least, it’s a nice sentiment._

* * *

Weeks turned into months, and as little Liam grew and became more aware of the world around him, it seemed he ‘played with the angels’ less and less. No one, not even a cynic like his Auntie Regina, could deny that the child’s beaming smiles and excited displays of interest and emotion were real these days.  He had a clear spark of wit and intelligence in his baby blue eyes, which, combined with his adorably commanding demeanor ( _“Can’t imagine where he would inherit that trait, can you love?”_ _Killian would tease_ ), allowed the lad to communicate quite effectively even though his vocabulary was still limited to nonsensical babbling.

One afternoon, little Liam played happily on a blanket spread across the floor of the captain’s cabin on the Jolly Roger as Killian rummaged through a cupboard he hadn’t opened in ages. Amongst the other detritus, he found a handful of drawings he’d done in his early naval days.  Gathering the papers into a neat stack, he sat down on the blanket next to his son.  He set the stack down, and scooped Liam into his lap, pointing to each image as he spoke.

“Did you know your Da used to draw, lad? See?  This one is a ship.  This very ship on which we sit, in fact.” Killian slid the paper over revealing the next drawing. “And this one is an island.  See those funny trees?  They’re called palms.” Killian slid this drawing aside as well, and was suddenly met with the image of his brother in full naval uniform, a captain’s hat upon his head.  His heart clenched for a moment, but he was distracted as little Liam lunged forward excitedly, reaching his chubby splayed hands to pat at the picture.

Killian was taken aback at the unusual behavior. His son had not reacted to the other images, and the lad couldn’t possibly have seen a picture of the elder Liam before.  He was snapped back to the present by the feeling of a small sticky hand patting against the scruff of his jaw.  Killian turned his face quickly to kiss his son’s palm, and Liam, now apparently satisfied that his daddy was paying attention again, resumed tapping his hands against his namesake’s picture, all the while babbling animatedly.

_It couldn’t be._ Killian thought to himself as the Widow Lucas’s words from that evening six months ago drifted back into his memory.   _Could it?_

He picked up the lad and placed him on his bunk, wedging him in with a pillow so he wouldn’t roll off, and turned back to the cupboard he’d been digging through earlier.  At the bottom near the back, he found the item he was seeking, and pulled it out, displaying it to his son with a dramatic flourish.

As soon as the little boy caught sight of the dusty old captain’s hat, his eyes lit up and he clapped his hands. Killian sat on the bed next to his son and Liam immediately reached for the hat, attempting to shove a corner of it into his mouth.  Killian pulled it back out of teething range, but still held it close enough that the lad could run his little fingers over the felt.  If he’d had any doubt before, Killian now believed with absolute certainty who exactly the angel was that his infant son had played with since his birth.

_Right, then._ Killian thought, tears pricking the backs of his eyes and a shiver running up his spine. He cast a furtive glance around the room, trying to sense the presence he hoped was lingering nearby. _I suppose now would be a good time to tell the lad about his uncle, aye?_

He cleared his throat and placed his brother’s hat on his son’s head. Little Liam sneezed at the dust, but giggled as his daddy pushed the overly large hat back to reveal his cherubic face.

“Me lad,” Killian began, “once upon a time, there was a brave sea captain…”

* * *

From that day forward, it became an inside joke - a secret between father and son. Every time Killian and Liam were alone on the Jolly, he would take back out his brother’s hat (now thoroughly cleaned and dusted), place it on his son’s head and tell him stories of the brave Captain Liam.

More months passed, and little Liam’s babbling became more coherent.  As with most wee ones, his first words were “Mama” and “Dada” and “No” (though his grandmother insisted he was saying “Snow”).  However, much to the surprise of everyone except the lad’s father, Liam’s next word was “Hat”.

When asked why on earth that particular word would be significant to little Liam, Killian would simply smile mysteriously and say with a wink, “Out of the mouths of babes.”


End file.
